Crosswires
by Reia
Summary: A spell goes wrong and Buffy's soul is trapped within... the BuffyBot? S/B! Post-Gone


Title: **Crosswires (1/?)**

Author: Reia

Website: http://lealea.net

Email: rawr@lealea.net

Disclaimer: Don't sue me. I don't claim to own anything BTVS. Joss rules.

Summary: A spell goes wrong, and Buffy's soul is trapped within... the BuffyBot?

Rating: R (just to be safe)

Spoilers: Post-Gone, hints of Bargaining

***

One month. One month without Buffy, and counting.

One month of hell, more like, Spike reflected, as he deposited his leather duster onto the cold concrete slab in the crypt he called home. The battle scars had long since healed, but the pain still felt as raw as the blood he had cooling in the fridge. At the thought of the red liquid, Spike's stomach rumbled. Rubbing his tummy absently, he headed towards the small fridge. He had just finished a night of patrolling and there was nothing like a spot of violence to whet the appetite.

A small movement, so slight it would normally go undetected if not for his vampire senses, caught Spike's attention. Spike was suddenly on alert.

"Spike!"

The exclamation was tinged with an absurd amount of cheeriness. Without warning, Spike found himself almost crushed in a tight embrace. Startled, he stumbled back, the momentum causing him to go off-balance and falling to the floor in an undignified heap, a warm body sprawled on top of him.

"Spike, oh, Spike!"

The scent of vanilla assaulted his senses, and startled blue eyes connected with bright green hazel. Colors swam across Spike's vision and he could swear he felt faint. If he had been able to breathe, his breath would have caught.

_No... It can't be..._

"Spike, I've missed you," she cooed, softly. Then without another moment's hesitation, she planted a firm kiss on his open, slack mouth.

***

Getting to the Magic Box that night had been the longest and shortest journey he had ever made. Technically, it probably took less than twenty minutes to get to to the shop but with a robot clone of Buffy trialing by his side sprouting sweet-nothings in his ear the entire time, the twenty minutes might as well have been sixty.

The Scoobies were less than pleased having him burst into the Magic Box unannounced and in a violent rush -- but it was instantly replaced with relief when they realised he was accompanied by the Buffybot. Apparently, they hadn't destroyed the robot as Buffy had claimed it was. The red-headed witch had re-activated it and was in the process of programming it when it up and bolted without warning. If Willow hadn't looked on the verge of collapse and if the Scoobies weren't hovering nearby, Spike would have been tempted to _hit_ the damn witch. All right, he wouldn't really have hit her, but it felt good thinking about the possibility...

The long and short of it was that the Buffybot was to serve two main purposes -- to keep the social services at bay, and the demons believing that the Slayer was still alive and kicking. At first, Spike was totally apalled at the thought of the robot being used as a pale stand-in for the original, but he had to admit that the idea had merit and solve a lot of their current problems. In the end, it was Dawn who convinced him it was for the best, so he let the matter slide.

"Isn't she great?" Dawn said one day, referring to the robot. Spike had come over to watch a few videos with the young girl and let the witches have a shot at patrolling for the night. Strangely enough, Willow and Tara had insisted that Spike take the night off and let them have a turn at the baddies. They also said they didn't need the robot, either, so they left it at home. They had a suspiciously skittish aura about them, but Spike decided that nervousness was natural trait of both of the witches.

"What, the bot?" Spike flicked a bored glance at the robot who was busy dusting the shelves. 

Willow had done a great job in programming the robot. It was as if Willow had gone and taken Martha Stewart and trapped her within the robots metal confines. It cooked, cleaned, generally managed the house, helped Dawn with homework (she was good at repeating information), and acted as a mini-secretary for the Wiccans. She was constantly cheery -- tiringly so -- and never complained, of course. During patrols, the robot held its own -- but the fatal flaw was that she was only used to a maximum of two opponents at one time. Any more than two, and the robot became overwhelmed and Spike had to save its metal ass many a time. The times he was busy slaying and _couldn't_ save the robot, he had to always drag it in for repairs. Usually, it took around two days for Willow to get it back to working order, but recently, she had somehow found a way to decrease repair time. Spike suspected it was magic use, but so far, there had been no side-effects so he made no protests.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, huh?" Dawn continued. She grinned widely and nudged Spike with her elbow. "Wait, look at this. Hey, Buffy! --Bot. Buffybot!"

Spike noticed how easily Dawn almost called the robot by her sister's name, but he said nothing. The robot stopped dusting and smiled at the girl she believed was her sister.

"Can I have a cookie? I'm getting kinda hungry," Dawn told the robot, who was wearing a simple flower dress with a white apron on. She looked quite pretty in it, and Spike hated the robot for it.

"A cookie? Chocolate chip, of course?"

Dawn nodded. "Yep, would you mind getting me some?"

The robot grinned. "Of course, Dawnie. A growing child needs food." With that, the robot set her feather duster down and headed towards the kitchen. Spike frowned, watching the robot retreat.

"I thought you said you were out of chocolate chip cookies," Spike commented.

"We are," Dawn acknowledged, dimpling. "BuffyBot's going to make 'em from scratch!"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Of course."

"Yesterday, I showed her a picture from my Cosmo mag, and she said she'll make me an outfit just like the model!" Dawn revealed, all giddy with excitement. "Doesn't that just totally rock? I mean, come on, my own custom-made designer knock-offs courtesy of Super Bot!"

Spike's frown deepened. Dawn was beginning to treat the robot like it was an actual person. "Dawn, it's just a machine."

Dawn's smile faltered. "I know that." Her smile turned into a full-grown pout. Spike supressed his own grin. It seemed as if the Summers women had perfected the bottom-lip thrust.

The vampire and the key sat quietly for the next thirty minutes, watching television. During the commercial break, the Buffybot came back in, plate of chocolate chip cookies in one hand, and a tray of drinks in the other. The robot placed the cookies on the coffee table and turned towards Dawn.

"Milk for you," the robot said, handing her a tall glass of it. She turned to Spike. "And blood for you, hottie."

Spike jumped slightly, startled at being acknowledged directly by the robot. Spike had clearly instructed Willow to remove any... of the extra programming he had Warren installed.

"Will do," the smart witch had assured him. Unfortunately, Willow hadn't gotten all the programming out and the robot still flirted shamelessly with him. Fortunately, the flirting came in spurts and was only restricted to a few words and actions. It hadn't tried to seduce him, like the first time she was re-activated.

Spike reached for the mug, and his fingers brushed against the robot's accidentally. He flinched as if burned, and the mug slipped from the robot's fingers, its contents spilling and splashing against all three of them.

"Ew, _gross_!" Dawn screeched. "Pig's blood!" Her eyes bulged out. "Tara is going to freak at this mess!"

"My bloody shirt!" Spike exclaimed, with no pun intended.

"Oh, my," the robot said, quietly, placing a red-stained hand on her cheek. "I better clean this all up."

Without another word, the robot headed towards the kitchen.

"Ew. I mean, _really _ew," Dawn wailed, her face crumpling. "This is so sick!"

Spike took off his shirt and tried to soak the rest of the blood from the carpet. He flicked his head towards the stairs. "Go get yourself cleaned up, pet. The bot and I'll take care o' this. Come on, now, stop moaning and get going."

Dawn stuck her tongue out at him and winked. "Maybe I just want to stay and see you try to clean up the place all shirtless and muscle-y and stuff."

Spike rolled his eyes. The girl thought she was a comedienne. "Get."

Dawn giggled, then grimaced as she took in the blood again. As she headed towards the stairs, she called back, "I'll see if I can find you a shirt or something. Riley left a couple of his tees behind."

Spike grimanced himself but before he could fling a stinging retort on the expense of the former Initiative soldier, his attention turned to the crash coming from the kitchen. "What now?" Spike muttered, with a huge sigh. He looked at the couch, disgustedly. What a mess. _Well, better see what the hell's wrong with the bot now_.

When he entered the kitchen, he found the robot sprawled on the ground, cleaning supplies scattered around her. Spike bit back a curse. Damn great time for it to start short-circuiting. Just when they needed a Martha Stewart-wannabe to get some stains out before Willow and Tara came home, the robot decided to take a small nap. He kicked its shoulder slightly with his toe. Nothing. Well, at least it didn't fizz while baking -- that could have been a mite dangerous.

"Bloody hell," Spike said, then bent down to pick it up.

***

Light. 

Everywhere. Blinding. Searing.

It hurt.

Buffy panicked, confused and disoriented. One moment, she was in a place of peace and safety, of utter contentment. The next, it felt like her soul was being pulled in all different directions, and she was sucked into a place of overwhelming light -- the unfriendly kind, which illuminated all the flaws, all the wounds, all the pain. It burned and Buffy felt like screaming, but no sound escaped her throat.

Then nothing. Nothing but an empty darkness.

_I can't breathe_, she realised, fear clutching her being. _Can't... breathe... _

She tried to move, but realised she couldn't. She couldn't see, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't move. She was... she was trapped! Buffy tried to scream again, but to no avail. Shock came in waves, rolling over her again and again, paralysing her with utter helpless fear. She was lost and alone, and no one could help her. No one...

_Help... me... _Buffy thought desperately, to no one -- to anyone.

Then suddenly, she became aware of a voice. It sounded so far away, but it was soothing, with its deep, lilting tones. Masculine, rumbling and comforting. Soft and gruff at the same time; foreign and yet, strangely familiar.

"What happened?"

Another voice. Feminine, young and perky. High and friendly. At the moment, it seemed concerned.

"Dunno, luv," the masculine voice returned. "Willow probably did a rush job on it the other day and it's still not in the proper working order. At any rate, this means we have to clean up the mess ourselves."

"Aw, that bites."

Buffy's eyes snapped open and she heard the girl gasp. Her blurred vision took a moment to focus, but she instantly recognized the young girl standing right in front of her.

_Dawn_, Buffy thought, feelings of relief and sorrow threatening to choke her. Her younger sister was all right! _Dawn Dawn Dawn... _

"Spike, it just opened it's eyes! I-it's staring and freaking me out!"

Suddenly, her view of Dawn was blocked and she found herself being held at arms length by the vampire that had become a reluctant ally. _Spike_. She stared into his handsome face and noticed the tightness around his cheekbones, and the way his muscle jerked against the side of his jaw. He looked as if he was trying to keep his face locked into a tight mask of cool detachment. Without warning, a vision of him pulling her into his embrace assaulted her mind, and all at once, she was overwhelmed with the need to bring her mouth to his.

She gave herself a mental shake, wondering where in the world _that_ came from, and decided to pull her thoughts over at the situation at hand. As she took him in, she noticed that he was wearing nothing but his black jeans, but his chest was covered in smeared blood.

_Blood_. She looked down. She was also splattered in blood.

Vampire. Blood. The Slayer within Buffy hummed and came on red-alert. She placed her hands on his bare arms, ready to push him off with mighty force --

-- but instead, her hands seemed to take a life of its own, and the push was replaced with a gentle caress. Spike shrugged her hands off and stepped back, rubbing his shoulders as if he had been touched by something dirty. Confusion flooded Buffy's mind.

_What the hell is going on?_

"Well, then, are you in working order?" Spike said gruffly, adressing her, but not looking directly at her.

"What's wrong with her, Spike?" Dawn quickly joined the vampire's side and she stared at Buffy.

_What's wrong with _you_?_ Buffy meant to say, but instead the words out of her mouth was, "All systems normal."

_Again_, Buffy thought, _What the hell?_

Spike and Dawn exchanged glances, but Spike shrugged. "Seems all right now."

"Great. Less clean up work for us," Dawn said, handing him a light blue button-up shirt that Buffy recognized used to be Riley's. "Um, here's the shirt. Buffy, you go finish cleaning up the living room."

Buffy didn't quite like the tone of voice her sister took on her, as if Dawn was the adult. She opened her mouth to lecture her.

"Okay." Buffy paused. All right, that was _so_ not what she was going to say. Then: "Oh, Spike, it's been a while since I've seen your washboard abs. I am overcome with forbidden longing!"

Buffy couldn't believe she just said that. Because _she _didn't say that! Something had taken over her body! For a split second, Buffy agreed with whoever had taken over her body. She had never seen Spike shirtless before -- and it truly was a magnificent sight to see.

Dawn decided to burst out laughing at that point, and Spike through her a quelling look, but Dawn persisted. 

"Enough from you, li'l nuisance," Spike said to Dawn. " 's not funny."

"Then why am I laughing?" Dawn countered.

Buffy began to laugh as well, an unnatural sound. No, _Buffy_ wasn't laughing. It -- whatever _it_ was -- was laughing. It seemed to be feeding off from Spike and Dawn's reactions. Finally, Dawn sobered up when she noticed that Spike wasn't returning the cheer.

"Sorry, Spike, it's just... I dunno, she's a little bit like Anya, isn't she?" Dawn said. "I mean, except she talks about you instead of Xander."

"Yeah, but loser-boy is a funny topic in himself, but her -- she's just a jumbled mess of lies."

Buffy gaped at them. They were talking about her as if she wasn't in the room. And Anya? They thought she acted like _Anya_?

"What are you staring at?" Spike snapped irritably towards her direction. "Clean up the living room now."

Buffy bristled with indignation. How dare Spike tell her what to do! However, her body moved on its own accord and began picking up the cleaning supplies with nary a protest. What was happening to her?! Frustration welled, but Buffy didn't have any control whatsoever. It was as if she was in her body, watching everything occuring but was helpless in having any impact on it.

After a while, Buffy had finished cleaning up the bloody mess in the living room, with remarkable skill. Usually, she would spray it once, rub it a bit, then move a rug or chair to cover the still-prominent stain. However, it was as if she had picked up some skills while she had been dead. Oddly enough, neither Spike nor Dawn looked surprised at her sudden ressurection. Possibly because she was inhabiting another person's body.

But other person's body or not, Spike and Dawn were horribly abrupt and rude towards her. She wondered what she looked like. _Who_ she looked like. However, her body wasn't her own, and she had no control--

-- but suddenly, she found herself in front of the bathroom. Buffy felt a surge of satisfaction -- she could take a bit of control herself! She concentrated and walked into the bathroom, flipping open the light. Her movements were slow -- it took effort for Buffy to control the body she was in, and a lot of concentration, but she managed. Buffy lifted her head and looked straight into her reflection.

And it was _her_ reflection. Buffy's frows furrowed. Wait. She was in _her _body. How could that be...? But Spike and Dawn were treating her as if she wasn't herself. Then, Buffy peered closer. Her complexion, although perpetually clear, wasn't nearly this flawless. And her mouth had a shiny gloss to it that should have faded by now. She lifted her hand and touched her face -- it felt smooth, soft and warm to the touch, but... it was _too _smooth. Too _perfect_. She stared into her eyes, and noticed how almost glassy they looked. She touched her hair and noticed how perfectly wavey and smooth they were, as well.

"We're very pretty," her voice said. She felt herself smile in an unnaturally cheerful manner.

With growing horror, Buffy realised what happened.

The robot. The "BuffyBot." That horrible mechanical monstrosity that Spike had programmed to do obscene sexual acts for his selfish gratification. The mindless automation that was a sad joke at the same time a horrible wonder.

And Buffy was trapped in it.

***

TBC


End file.
